


Afterlife

by fikidurin



Series: 12 Days of Christmas 2020 [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Happy Ending, M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28099062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fikidurin/pseuds/fikidurin
Summary: Yet another deadline approaching, and Fili is spiralling. It's fine, Kili knows just how to take care of a stressed-out artist.
Relationships: Fíli/Kíli (Tolkien)
Series: 12 Days of Christmas 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056737
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20
Collections: GatheringFiKi - 12 Days Of Christmas 2020





	Afterlife

It starts like this:

That _bitch_ from the Foundry calls again, pushing Fili about the deadline for his latest creation. It must be magical, she says. It must be his best work yet, it must be a showstopper, it must draw everyone’s eye to it, et cetera and so on.

It’s enough to give Kili a headache and he doesn’t even have to make the damn thing.

But it’s Christmas, and instead of cuddling up on their squishy sofa with hot chocolate and cheesy Hallmark movies, Fili is running around like someone lit a fire under his arse.

He’s spiralling. A lack of inspiration has meant the piece is due in a little over three weeks and Fili hasn’t even started it.

Kili just keeps out of his way. He knows the drill by now, knows what it’s like to be dating an artist, picking up the slack with regards to housework, making sure Fili eats and stays hydrated and actually gets some sleep, because _for fuck’s sake, Fili, you are not a giraffe, you need more than two hours every night._

This evening, however, Kili is putting his foot down. Dinner is warming in the oven, vanilla and jasmine scented candles are lit around the bubble bath that he all but forced Fili into.

This is their night, and Kili is adamant it will be perfect even if it kills him.

* * *

It ends like this:

Kili probably should have checked their wine supply before he chose to make salmon for dinner. All they have is red wine, a half-decent merlot that might be an excellent dessert wine, but won’t pair well with a beurre blanc.

He glances at his watch and peeks in the oven and decides he has time to nip out before Fili finishes his bath.

He’ll be back long before Fili misses him.

He almost slips on the doorstep as he braves the winter chill, and the six or so inches of snow is not entirely unexpected but still a surprise.

It’s dark, but everyone has started to put their decorations up and so the street is filled with twinkling lights, children throwing snowballs and making snow angels.

Kili is so occupied by the laughter and joy around him, that he forgets to look both ways before crossing the street.

There’s a squeal of tyres and then the breath is knocked from his lungs.

Kili feels just a second of excruciating pain before everything goes black.

* * *

It starts like this:

When he opens his eyes, all he sees is white haze.

Kili blinks and his vision clears. He’s floating, surrounded by clouds. He turns, and they seem to stretch for miles, a blank canvas as far as the eye can see.

He’s alone.

“Hello?” he calls. “Is anyone there?”

A voice from behind him responds. “I am here, Kili.”

He wheels around and takes a step back. “Thorin?”

“Not quite,” the being corrects. Two large, fluffy wings unfurl from behind his back, spreading wide. The display of power, of the unknown should be terrifying. But his eyes are kind and Kili feels his fear melt away. “Just a visage that you would recognise. I find it helps.”

Kili feels the painful lump rising in his throat, and tears sting his eyelids. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

Not-quite-Thorin shakes his head, and Kili feels the stirrings of hope in his stomach. “Not yet. But soon.”

And as quickly as they appeared, his hopes are dashed. His head droops. “I see. What happens now?”

“Now, you accompany me. I will take you to the place your journey truly begins.”

A tear rolls down Kili’s cheek.

* * *

It ends like this:

“What do you mean, _no_?” Not-quite-Thorin’s wings quiver in indignation. “You do not have a choice.”

Kili shrugs, defiant. “I don’t care. I can’t go with you. Fili needs me. You said I wasn’t quite dead, which means that technically I’m still alive. And while that’s the case, I won’t leave him.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Not-quite-Thorin’s eyes grow sad, and Kili obstinately averts his gaze as more tears roll down his cheeks. He doesn’t need pity. He needs to wake up. He needs to stay with Fili.

“Then make it.” His voice cracks. “Please. It’s… it’s Christmas.”

It sounds pathetic and naive, even to his own ears. It doesn’t matter what time of year it is. It will never be a good time to die. Never be a good time to leave Fili behind.

“I cannot give you what you ask,” Not-quite-Thorin murmurs, and Kili feels a tender brush of lips across his brow. “But I can offer you a brief reprieve. I can give you time to find peace with your demise. I will return for you at sunrise.”

Kili’s eyes scrunch closed as he feels something shift inside him. Like he’s suddenly weightless and full of life.

His hands glow a brilliant white, and Kili’s last thought is that this must be what it feels like to be made of stardust.

* * *

It starts like this:

He’s in his living room, and can hear the sounds of Fili weeping from his workshop. The door is closed, and when he reaches for it, his hand passes through the handle.

Emboldened, he steps through the wall and _that isn’t unnerving at all._

The workshop is a mess. He has no idea how long it’s been since he… well, didn’t die? Or whatever the hell happened. Paint is strewn over the floor and walls. Sketches and paintings are torn to shreds. Marble dust and shattered statues litter every surface.

And Fili sits in the middle of it all, knees to his chest, head resting in his arms, sobbing as if the entire world had ended.

“Fili,” he murmurs, reaching for him. He doesn’t expect Fili to hear him. He doesn’t expect the way his head snaps up, shock and desolation etched across his face.

“Kee?” Fili rasps, and a trembling hand reaches out towards Kili.

He takes it, and it doesn’t occur to him till a second later that he shouldn’t be able to touch Fili. He can’t interact with any other object around him, but he can touch Fili.

“It’s me.” He examines the raw skin, torn and bleeding knuckles, and gently presses a kiss to them.

Fili all but wails. “I can… Kili, I can see through you. You’re not solid. Are you a—? How are you—?”

“True love has a habit of coming back,” Kili replies, and then snorts. “Is that cheesy? God, that’s cheesy. Must have been from that terrible film you made me watch last week.”

And Fili sobs again, but this time it’s filled with laughter, and his eyes are still streaming tears but they’re bright. “Now I know it’s definitely you.” He pauses, and the brightness in his eyes dulls again. “I’m so sorry.

"No," Kili says firmly, and pulls Fili forward into his lap. He knots his fingers in Fili's thick sweater while the other hand cards through his hair. "None of that. It is what it is. And yeah, okay, there was lots of stuff I wanted to do. But I was happy. I am happy. The only thing I regret is that I won't get to grow old with you."

Fili doesn't reply, but Kili knows words have never really been his forte. Art is his medium. He expresses himself through visual creations, tells stories in paintings and shares emotions in sculpture.

"How long can you stay?" Fili asks eventually.

Kili's answer is preceded by a brief kiss to the tip of Fili's nose. "Sunrise," he breathes.

Less than a day. It’s not enough. But Kili doesn’t think any time would ever be enough. He won’t cry in front of Fili, he knows he has to find strength for both of them, not if he wants Fili to have any chance of moving on with his life.

Fili takes a deep breath, and forces a smile that doesn’t fool either of them. “Then it’s your last day on earth. How do you want to spend it?”

Kili’s eyes shine with tears, and his hand moves from Fili’s hair to cup his cheek. “With you. Always with you.”

* * *

It ends like this:

They spend Kili’s last moments on earth in bed. Kind of. He can’t exactly interact with the bed, so they pull the covers onto the floor, pushing their mini Christmas tree to one side.

Kili lies across Fili’s naked body, their legs entwined. It’s still dark, but the sun will crest over the horizon at any moment, signalling the end of their time together.

“I want you to be happy, you know.”

Fili hits his shoulder. “Don’t. I don’t need to hear the part where you encourage me to find someone else to marry and settle down with.”

“God no,” Kili snorts. “I’m a selfish man. I want you to pine for me till the end of your days.”

Fili smiles sadly. “Good. Because I will.”

Kili kisses him. “But I’m just saying… you don’t need to feel guilty for finding happiness without me. Whatever form that happiness comes in.”

Fili just nods.

They lie in silence for a moment, and then Kili pushes himself up into a sitting position, legs crossed, staring up at the fragment of sky he can see through the window.

“What do you think happens when you die?” Fili asks, softly.

Kili shrugs, and closes his eyes. He pretends for a moment he can feel the wind on his face, and knows he never will again. “Honestly, I always thought it would be nice to be reincarnated. Not as a rat or something like that. But... maybe a blade of grass, or a flower seed, or an acorn. Something natural and beautiful, to come back to earth and leave a mark in a different way. You know?”

When Fili doesn’t reply, Kili opens his eyes and sees the first tinges of orange as the sun finally begins to rise.

* * *

It starts like this:

The Foundry displays Fili Oakenshield’s latest masterpiece. It’s named ‘Afterlife’, although the artist is less than forthcoming about the inspiration behind the name.

The art itself is simplistic and beautiful, and emanates both sadness and joy. White wires knotted and entwined to create a stunning tree, adorned with sculpted marble and wood acorns that suspend from various branches.

Fili attends the unveiling of his new artwork. He stands in a corner, dressed casually, clutching but largely ignoring a flute of champagne.

He goes largely unnoticed, and that suits him fine. He’s never really been one for words. His art speaks for him. Instead he watches and waits.

He watches people take pictures, identify with the emotions he poured his heart and soul into when he created the tree.

A hand slides into his, and he realises his waiting is over. A smile spreads across his face, and he turns to greet his companion with a kiss.

“Sorry I’m late. Another masterpiece then?” Kili teases. “Not that I expected any less. We should celebrate.”

“Yeah, we should,” Fili agrees. “At home. Just me and you.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay a bit longer?” Kili asks, stealing Fili’s glass of champagne and taking a sip. “Hey, this is pretty good.”

Fili shakes his head, and starts insistently tugging Kili towards the exit. “I’m sure. I spent long enough on that tree. Now I want to spend time with you.”

Kili understands. When sunrise came and went and he’d stayed by Fili’s side, he’d been living in a shadow of uncertainty. But now he knows they’ve both been given a second chance.

Neither of them intend to waste a second of it.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any thoughts, I'd love to hear them! Leave a comment below, or even a kudos.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @ [fikidurin](https://fikidurin.tumblr.com)


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